The Gatz
by DyanneRamsay1
Summary: Was it a figment of my previously unethical imagination..? Or was it true? Did this man before me really appear as the one that had tormented so many East Egger's lives not eight years ago...?
1. Prologue

I, being a man of good taste and modest agriculture, had been raised to never believe in the even yet teetering theory of the paranormal.

It was the summer of 1930 and not long after the apalling disaster that shook East Egg yet remained modestly secretive to a select few came the product of such fabrications. The paranormal, as stated in William Shieldings _Road to the Everlasting_ was something that could not touch the living yet haunted them with its over-bearing sadness. In the same novel, Shielding goes on to say that the only reason the paranormal exists is for one of two reasons. Reason number one, there was a legacy the particular spirit had left behind that had not been readily disolveable and as a result came the particulars of the haunting; to return to the legacy they had been so enourmously and shockingly robbed of.

The second reason that Shielding stated, which lingered in my mind almost as soon as the words on the page had transcended into my brain forever, was that the person which once inhabited the Earth was not in actual fact a ghost; but a figment of the loved ones imaginations.

Now to address the rather large beast in the room, I recall to you reader, that in the state of mind of which I was raised, I never ventured to the possibility of such things being real.. But alas it was the summer of 1922 that everything changed and rather climaxed to a cavalcade of enigmas that both haunted and graced the few enhabitants of East Egg left that were aware of the legacy that haunted and thrilled us, known only as Jay Gatsby..


	2. Chapter One : A Requiem for Rememberance

East Egg was yet but a memory to me now. I had long been back in New York and East Egg was a pungeont scent that instantly took you back to that place if ever smelt again. The goings on of that place, and the secrets of that town, had been much too much to handle. As a man of my age and stature, I was now married. My wife, Lily was in captured essence the beauty of women that encapsulated our time. While it was a gay and delightful time in 1930 my wife and I had a spark that I believed originated not from my relationship with her but in fact from a man so distant in my history yet so close in my memories.

Jay Gatsby was the man of the hour, and in the short months I spent encapsulated and mesmerized in his presence, I could labour all of the beauty I witnessed in Lily to Gatsby himself. Lily was a short stout woman, with tendrils of blonde and brown that were reminiscint of the man of the hour himself. Her love cascaded my body in a sheet of warmth that I blamed myself everyday for the fact that I couldn't return. My heart was in spring, my heart was in the memories, and I believed for the rest of my sad existence that is where it will remain.

"Thinking again, are you Dear?" Lily came round the corner of our small bungalow in New York, a rare find for the hustling bustling city, but a necessity to help me relive the years that brought me alive.

I shifted in my yellow patent seat, my waist coat on the back hanging for the short while before we would depart down to West Egg for a reminiscint dinner. She had a feeling that the happiness I truly ever felt resided where my previous home and occupation were, but she dared not let her mind go to that place.

"Just waiting for you Dear."I responded after a soft click of memories shut off just like a camera. I got up, draped my waist coat over my shoulder with practiced ease and accompanied my wife through the door.

"Hey there boy, hey.."I smiled and bent down to tousle the hair on my freshly bought German Sheppherd. James I had named him, and while not a conventional name for a dog, his poise and lucid yet unpredictable movements reminded me of the man that enchanted our hearts for so long. "He needs to see the vet, he has been moaning all morning."Lily was always concerned about James and in a way I guess it was her silent distraction. Anything to distract her from the fact that her husband was in love with not another woman but another time, In love with the life that he once lived, which I now felt like was a dream I had dreamt and was so terribly wishing for eternal sleep to experience it once more.

"Come Nick we're going to be late! The dinner reservations were for five!" I muster a chuckle as James licks my palm and saunters off to go do something rather doggish. I grab my silly old beaten up hat and grab the brass door knob taking a lingering look at my home that I had made with the wife that I loved and closed the door. As we bounded into our small car and started the drive towards the town that had been left forgotten in the wake of the death of Jay Gatzby I turned on the radio to distract myself from the tyranical outburts that ended in my leave of the desolate town.

"Why do you do that?" I turned to face my wife, a porcelain doll in a vision of pink who encapsulated the beauty of all the men yet only had eyes for me. I stammer in my response, already sure of her rebuttle but refusing to jump into a conversation that will inevitably end in her tears. "Do what dear?" As I had suspected she let herself sink lower into the leather bound seat of our carriage. While I knew she was silent I was aware of the screaming she was doing inside her head.

"Nevermind. You act as though you are a stone wall, as though no one can see through you. Here we are on our anniversary and you can't muster yourself to forget about that.. that.. con artist! For one bloody second!" I exhaled deeply, allowing the oxygen left in the depths of my lungs to leave me. While we had taken part on many the argument surrounding the validity of my friendship according to Lily, now seemed like the wrong day and the wrong time to even surimpose the idea of a heated automobile argument.

Once we had made it to the resteraunt in West Egg, Lily and I were seated at our favorite table, which had amicable history for me yet not so obvious that she outright refused to go there. It was Jazz night, and as a result a series of the cities best jazz musicians had come together to do a performance as well as offer a meal all in the same night at the same venue for a well made 100 dollars. Lily loved this place and it had been here that Id seen her elgant yet robust womanly figure dart along the dance floor to Edwin Fitzpatrick.

"Im going to dance, you stay here will you dear?'I gave her a measly nod in an attempt to get her away from me in order to enjoy my feverent thoughts of the man that still haunted my mind. As I watched my beautiful wife dance, I felt the angelic yet purposeful hand on the back of my shoulder and I was greeted with a reminiscint voice:

"A beauty isnt she old chap?"

My heart had begun to dance, my eyes shot open as they hadnt before besides the first time I had been introduced to Jay Gatzby's elegant parties. As I turned to greet the voice in a hope to be welomed with _his _face, the waiter looked down at me in return.

"Sir? Can you hear me? Would you like some sparkling water?" My heart went to my ribcage in a profound way that I would have to check to make sure it were still beating were it not ringing in my ears. I stumbled on my words, simply to mutter a yes and looked back at my wife. She were dancing just as I left her and was looking as elegant as the day I married her. A sudden crash darted my attention away from my wifes comical event of dancing and I looked toward the doors. A womans shriek filled the resteraunt as a dart of blonde hair rushed past her violently. I was in my feet in an instant and at the door.

I didnt get to see much, only the screeching sound of tires driving away greeted me, but as I looked down, my eyes deceived me in a way they never had that I knew for a minute I musnt be hallucinating.

I bent down the beautiful piece of silk that lay trampled on the floor by the opening of the resteraunt. If it were a simple elegant piece of cotton silk it wouldnt have intrigued me more, if it werent for the initials in the top right hand corner. Hard to miss, but stood out with a burning desire if you had lived the life Id lived.

The initials it bore were J G...


	3. Chapter Two : The Most Terrifying Voice

Time had passed since the cavalcade of events that took place at the resteraunt it West Egg. I had turned, and turned the events of that night in my mind; like a photograph I tried to remember every face that I saw when I entered that place as if to see if I could capture just a glimpse of the man that still haunted my memories. In an attempt to conserve my dignity I simply crossed it off as a coincidence. He didn't say..

"A beauty isn't she old chap?"

... He said 'Old sport!'. That's what Gatsby said, and it would and could never be duplicated. He didn't say old chap he said old sport and that's what I stuck to in my mind. However, there still remained the handkerchief with the neat and elegant font of J G. That was something that I couldn't pretend did not exhist. It wouldn't be the nature of a man such as myself to ignore such pungeont facts. Yet the question remained in my mind: Was it facts? How many men in the elegantly constructed town of West Egg could have the initials J G?

My mind would continue to turn and turn the information presented to me. So much so that my darling Lily began to become frustrated, more so than her usual frustrations, with my negligence for her and my over-bearing dedication to a man that "Skeeved and skived all of New York and took me along for the ride as well". If I were to say that my wife and I had no arguments surrounding the nature of the relationship Gatsby and I had I would be lying.

My gaze wandered north to the brown aged clock that hung on the wall as it ticked silently signalling the release of my short-lived freedom, before I would need to get in my car and return to my wife who was in a current state of morose just thinking about the fact that I may be using working hours paying attention to "Something that probably wasn't even real." I lifted my body from the chair and swung my jacket behind me, heading to my car in a practiced shuffle. I lifted my gaze, and I stared around at all the faces full of purpose and excitement for what the world may bring them. In my opinion, my life had been lived and I was merely a soul awaiting its departure. I had lived the grand and fabulous lifestyle, I had loved and lost in the most serenely pathetic way that a man such as myself could have.

I touched the cool handle of the car door, and something that I don't think I could convey to you reader, took over me. My gaze lifted once more, only this time to the sky. I stood there for a long time before the horns of angry taximen brought me back to my stubborn reality. Something happened in that daze, and instead of returning to my darling Lily I retreated into my vehicle and began the drive to East Egg. I wasn't absolutely sure why I decided to drive there, and even on arriving to the place of my former debutants, The Buchanans, I still lingered for a reason that may explain why I was so beckoned to that unfamiliar place.

It had been years since I had darkened the door step of the Buchanan residence. Daisy and Tom Buchanan; the upmost reason if any that solidified my departure from West Egg. Daisy, the tantalizing innocent young woman that could captivate any man, and _the_ man. She was a siren captivating in her beauty and merciless in her humour. A selfish woman that wanted nothing but to elicit feelings of remorse, hurting, anger, and despair in the hearts of others in order to assure herself that life would be just like how she pictured it.

I would stand on that doorstep for a long time, before the help would arrive and demand that I either ring or leave. While the greeting from the help was rather abrupt and cold, it only reminded me more of that mansions previous inhabitants. I wanted nothing more than to destroy that place. In my eyes it was the place of destruction, a cold slab of brick and concrete slabbed together that housed people of vile loathing that wanted nothing more than the destruction of something foreign.

I shouldn't blame it all on the house though. Jordan Baker, Tom and Daisy Buchanan, Myrtle Wilson.. These names all appeared as blank slates to me and no matter how hard I tried to conjur up the hatred I had for them for destroying a genuine man such as Gatsby so deeply, the only thing I could mutter were some bad momentary thoughts and a martini. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and tucked my head down leaving with the shred of dignity I had left. I returned to Lily, all while singing the praises of Mark Saltzer and the Rayjay's that were playing on the radio.

When I finally did make it home, Lily was dancing her sweet swinger way in the kitchen preparing us supper for the night ahead of us. James came up to me in a swinging saunter that told me he hadn't been taken for a walk yet, something Lily hated doing especially when animals would do this despicable act she wasn't familiar with called urinating.

"Hello dear... you're late."

She finished her greetings with a voice that conjured up anxiety and fierce excitement in my belly. "I know hunny I'm sorry I wanted to stop by somewhere real quick." I murmured that of a half-truth for my stop was supposed to be a lot longer than real quick. Once I made my way into the dining room I mustered a half-assed kiss on my beauties cheek and sat down at the head of the table."I'd like some tea very much dear if you don't mind." Without saying a word she lifted the kettle onto the burner, the new industrial stove we purchased was a real knockout. I suppose it's one of the real things I loved about Lily. She never really asked many questions and she never really absorbed confrontation, she always had a way about her that made me think she knew exactly what you were thinking at all times.

"The phones been ringing off the hook Nick.. I suggest you answer.. Maybe it's that dealer from Chicago offering you a job finally."She said in her diligent voice, ensured that whatever she said would happen, most certainly would happen in the near future no doubt.

As I was snapped from my thoughts the phone rang again, I sighed concervatively and crossed the room stepping over James. I reached the receiver and something inside me told me not to answer, to cross the room back to my emotionally delicate wife and make love to her neither stopping for work or for any telephone calls. Like most things in life, I ignored my inner voice. I picked up the receiver, warm from the buzzing it most surely had been doing all afternoon.

There were two times I had been drunk in my life. I never mentioned the times I have been genuinely scared. Not scared for my life, but definitely to the point of questioning my own sanity for what was before me. The voice that greeted me was one that I hadn't heard in a long, long time and it was one that I most surely thought would behold my dying right there on the spot.

"Hello... Mr. Carraway."


	4. Chapter Three: That Old Blue Car

Jordan Baker. She was a woman that had the canter of a pure-bread horse, but didn't nearly resemble one on her worst day. My infatuation with her lasted about as long as my melancoly living arrangements in West Egg. Her voice was one that you would never forget even if you went years, like I had, without hearing it.

"Yes! Yes that would be me." I replied to her in a rushed stammer. The mere fact she was calling me made my bloid boil and my skin crawl. She was a siren much like my cousin Daisy in the way that she captivated men with her social stature and her beauty. Beneath that debutant mask was the monster that inhabited so many souls of the upper class residing in East Egg or anywhere for that matter.

"Been a long time... Hasn't it Nick?"Her infeverent voice took my mind back to 1922. My eyes danced following the party lights, the fireworks, the majestic twins that captured every essence of youth in every twirl of their hips. I was snatched back to my more relaxed lifestyle at the whistling of the kettle. I turned and looked behind me to see my wife, Lily, staring at me as if to ask to whom I was speaking. I lifted my hand to clamp down on the bottom end of the receiver. "An old business partner darling."I whispered back to her in a voice that didn't sound half as though I was speaking a lick of truth to her. I turned my attention back to the conversation at hand.

"What do you want? Why are you calling me here?" I whispered in a harsh tone at the woman on the other end that I felt like I knew before in a dream somewhere. "That's no way to speak to an old friend is it Nicky? I need to speak to you about something.. something disturbing."Her voice went up a level, something that Jordan's voice only did when she had finally gotten her spindly womanly fingers on a juicy piece of gossip most often provided by the man of the hour himself. My mouth opened but the words I was so ever itching to say refused to surface. As if she could sense my sudden lack of speech, she retorted.

"I was feeling... reminiscint. I went over to Gatsby's house, his old house of course. Everything was taken out of course and there hasn't been any inhabitants for years! But there was a man in the window.. In the window on the top right hand side of his mansion. I stared and I stared but I couldn't fix myself to find out who it was. He stayed there for what must of been a full quarter of an hour before he finally left. It was like... Like Gatsby was still there. Now I went over again this morning before one of my press meetings and there is furniture being moved in. You wouldn't suppose-"

"Of course not Jordan! He's dead! Long dead! Maybe if you had come to see him one last time your filthy conscience wouldn't be haunting you. I've had enough of this conversation! When I left there I left you people! Don't call my house again! Ever!" I slammed the receiver down with the same loathing and hatred I had just conjured to curse at Jordan Baker, then ran a hand through my hair as if to wave off some imaginary cloud that now hung over me and I feared wouldn't be disappearing any time soon.

I wasn't crazy... That's all I could muster. Someone else had seen him too. I left Lily in the dining room and swiftly crossed my house to the bedroom Lily and I shared. I wretched open the bedside drawer sweeping my hand inside it and feeling around. I gathered up the handkerchief I kept from that terribly confusing, now made all too clear, night. I lifted the handkerchief to my nose and inhaled deep, it no longer smelt like Gatsby, if it was indeed his, but like wood chips and pine needles, with a hint of a fire oven. It smelt woodsy and homely. While it didn't smell like Gatsby anymore, the scent still took me back there.

There was an incessant knock on the bedroom door that made me turn, the handkerchief still in my hand. Lily was standing at the door with a look of confusion and absolute fear. "Nick... What happened?"She asked me with her eyes boring holes deep into my soul. Even though she asked, she knew what the problem was. Lily had known all along who and where my true heart belonged too. It wasn't to her and it wasn't to this time.

"I'm sorry dear I.. I just got caught up in some old kerfuffle.. I-I'll be out in a minute."I smiled at her, the same smile I gave her on the day of our matrimony. The smile that would say to a woman 'I will never love you... But I will always provide for you.'

Once she had left the room, finished dinner, and we lay in bed together, I stared up at the ceiling. All I could see, like looking through fantastic Gatsby colored glasses, was the parties. The roof tops of inside his mansion where the diamonds would hang and the liqour would spray. Where the women were looser, and the parties were harder. The man of the hour himself was the man that everyone wanted to be. As my cousin would put it.."The man in the cool suit." He was everything everyone ever wanted. The most elegant bachelor and yet, murdered like a common thief. He was forever would be the one that would hold my heart in a captivating way, not romantic, but in a way that would grasp me and control me at any particular point in my life.

I slept soundly next to my wife; up until about half past three in the morning. I was awoken by the sound of a roaring engine that sounded as though it were right in my bedroom. I lurched up and in all my nakedness bounded to the window next to our bed. I looked, and what held before my eyes was almost too much to handle. I had been living an amazing life! I had a beautiful wife! I had a gorgeous house! I had a well paying job and was surviving. But alas it brought me back to my madness by on that early January morning seeing that..

Blue car.. Spinning out of my drive way...


	5. Chapter Four : Back to Beautiful

There was no question in my mind that I had unfinished business. I had been living the life as though these traumatizing experiences happened to someone and I merely watched them, but the night I saw the Buchanan's car in my car park I knew I couldn't deny it anymore. The fire in my belly ignited with the same ferocity it had only once in my life time before when I attended the funeral of my great friend Jay Gatsby. And so, on an early weekend morning I boarded up my automobile and began the journey. I never was too certain of where Daisy and her vile husband had taken off too but upon summoning all the patience I had I telephoned Jordan Baker and insisted on the address.

As I began the car ride there, my belly stopped tumbling and my eyes got wet. I couldn't ignore the feelings that roared through me, threatening to tumble out in aggression and words that I'm certain I would regret at my work, to my wife, during Sunday morning service, everywhere in my daily life. I was disgusted in myself as my face twisted and I began sobbing.

"I will tell you the God's honest truth about me.."

I looked beside me and saw _him_. I knew he wasnt there, which caused the tears to flow all the quicker. I let my frustrations rupture my throat in animalistic, barbarian screams and pulled my car to the side of the road. I screamed for what must have been hours just at the thought of this mans sad life, my friend, my partner in the life that enthralled me and I still escape to every night in my dreams. He was brilliant, he was enigmatic, he was everything I wanted to be and everything I could ever hope to become. Even the words I write on this page, they don't quite bring it to justice; his legacy.

I stayed that way for quite a while before I wiped my face and allowed the tears to roll down my face as I continued the drive. No more screams, and no more shouting, just sad and somber sobbing that would take place nearly the entire drive to the new Buchanan residence.

I pulled up with a screech, the stones crunching under my tires and the air of East Ellesmere taking me by surprise. I sat in my car for a while, undetected by life and able to sit and admire with a ghostly discretion. The mansion itself was built on lies and diplomacy. Tom Buchanan himself was a war lord that went undetected by media and rarely reared his ugly head except for when threatened by another man even whilst he was encapsulated in an affair. His wife, I presume, had alerted him of the affair. Daisy Buchanan; a Buchanan long before the matrimony. She was jealous of Tom, she knew he had a life that was kept secretive from her. All she wanted in life was to be able to match him in every possible way; not with her authority or anything of those sorts. She matched and surpassed him mentally, maniputively. All she needed was the affair, the constant linger in Tom's mind that she indeed was the woman that ran the show.

The women of the 1920's were the flappers. They took back their matriarchal positions and smoked cigarettes, gambled, wore small dresses and did just about anything to push the envelope. Daisy Buchanan was the princess of them all, wrapped up ina small bonnet sized model.

Something caught my peripheral and my head snapped from the front doors of the Buchanan's to the side bushes. A figure started away from the house and I jumped out of my car running towards it. I needed to see if it was him. There was a blur of blonde hair as it rounded the corner of the maze. I followed, pursued and wondered what I would do if it was him and I finally got my hands on him again. He rounded every corner as I followed till he was too fast and I couldn't see anything of him. I finally bounded out of the maze to where I had been, my car stayed exactly where it was and I noticed that another car was bounding off, leaving dirt in its path. I was nearly about to jump in my car and pursue it, to see if it could be true and if the savior of my damnation called boredom was still walking this earth as I hypothesized, when Daisy interrupted me.

"Nicky... Is that you?" I turned to face the voice and my eyes focused on her. She was standing just as she had years ago and I could understand in that moment why Gatsby had thought she was still the fair headed maiden he had claimed years before his return. She let her porcelain hands fly to her face covering that mouth that had uttered lies ending the life of a man who only ever wanted to bask in her presence if nothing more."Oh Nicky.."She started towards me and as a mirror I took three steps back. She stopped where she now stood and retracted the tears just as skillfully as she coiled us all into her deception.

"I saw that car Daisy... I saw it at my house. What were you doing there?"I asked her. All I wanted was my answers, I didn't care for the wax poetic, more than likely untrue version of her take on the situation. She took her tentative steps back appearing as though I struck her. "Please come inside Nick."She spoke in a whisper I barely caught. The lump caught in my throat and I nearly gave her a true reason to back away from me. "I don't want to go in that house Daisy! YOU TELL ME! WHY YOU WERE AT-"

"NICK! Come inside! For I wish not to have this conversation outside."She shouted at me and for a brief blink of a moment I saw questionable sincerity; Quiestionable, but still there. I disengaged my engine that had still been running in my feverent need to catch the man that may have been. I followed her into the house and it was set up identical to their previous mansion, if not more modernized.

We sat and she offered me a beverage. I refused the beverage and once again stated my intentions. She looked at me with her brooding eyes that revealed her pain. I refused to entertain the idea that it may be pain from not attending Gatsby's funeral, as it would probably only hurt me more.

"You think I didn't love him Nicky? You seriously think that I could be with a man like James and not love him?!" I sneered looking at the persian rug."His name is Jay.." She scoffed and I heard it which began my blood boiling.

"I loved him! OF course! I loved him. He gave me everything I wanted and everything I needed. You think people can just run away Nicky?! No! I have a child I have my beautiful little child. I couldn't just leave her Nicky!" She began her pity-party and I cut it off by standing and exploding in a rush of broken china and splattered tea.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut upppp!"I charged her and while mere inches from her face I spoke. "You didn't even attend his funeral! All of it was for you! No you LISTEN! You! It was all you. It was all you.."I dropped to my knees in front of her, over come by the paralyzing emotion."He always loved you and you only used him to get back at your husband. You let him take the blame! You knew that Tom wouldn't tell the truth and you let him die and you didn't even say goodbye!" I shouted at her, claiming her mouth with my fist to get her to stop her incessant noise. Her lips trembled against my palm probably from fear, doubtful from the latter. My own eyes were claimed by tears that were different from the ones that I drove with; They were angry and ready to claim the revenge I waited all these years for.

"You didn't even say good bye! Did you!? Did you?!" I couldn't contain it anymore and I noticed in the corner, flashed by the china the figure of the help watching in fear. I double taked and allowed myself to comprehend the situation. I released her mouth, her lipstick now smeared by my hand and her cigarette burning away. I got up and turned, running my fingers through my mishapen mop. I straightened my vest and sipped off the rest of my tea.

"I expect that if you return to my house the authorities will be contacted.. and I'm not sure you would like what you would receive.."I grabbed my suit jacket and my hat, topping myself and never looking back.

"Nicky! Wait... I've seen him!"She stopped me with the only resource she had left. The only thing she knew she could do to claim me back. I turned on my heel to face her as she trembled like a pathetic mut.

"I've seen him Nicky.. Here.."


	6. Chapter Five: Wolfshiem

As I drove back towards my own abode I was taken by the different emotions that inhabited my body at one time. Daisy had seen him, Jordan had seen him, I was sure I had seen him as well and it made one thing all too clear to me now. It couldn't be incessant madness anymore. He had to be alive; he had too. I continued the long drive back to my home where I was certain Lily would be pacing back and forth in a fit of misunderstanding. The letter I had left for her hadn't been too clear and I was sure that with the pattern of unexplained outbursts she was sure something terrible had happened to me.

_"He's been here Nicky, in this place.. I've seen him. So cool.. Just standing like he's waitin' for me to say something to him. As soon as I start up to talk to him, he's gone."_

The pattern had begun and the incessant feeling that we weren't alone was starting to take me to places that I hadn't been even before meeting the man of the hour himself. The tears flooded my face on the way back home and I think the reason for my new found emotional barrage was the fact that maybe it didn't have to be over. Maybe Gatsby had a unique plan for everyone in his life and not just himself. He had an extravagant life beheld to him and he still didn't stop there so it made us all ponder that perhaps this life we were all living was curtesy Jay Gatsby himself.

I finally reached my home and after consoling my wife I laid with her as a man should and left her once again. Jordan Baker, Daisy Buchanan and myself would all consort and we would try to appease our deliverance. We were going to pursue this essence of Gatsby that was left behind and wouldn't stop until we were either committed or found him again.

Once I made it home I was shocked with what I was greeted too. Three carton wheeled automobiles, all pleasently decorated with silver chrome covering the wheels and the initials that I couldn't make out on the side of the carriages. I rushed inside for some kind of unmistakeable fear that ran through me. I hopped up the couple steps that greeted me and found the door open which just added to the anticipatory fire building in my belly.

The scene that greeted me was special and for a second I was greeted humbly and happily, then it turned it's ugly head on me and three men swivelled on their feet revealing a ghostly figure. Meyer Wolfsheim was a man of ghastly and intimidating proportions. He was all man and he was in my living room. Lily was in the kitchen preparing something sweet for them, wanting to be the ultimate house wife.

"Ah.. my boy!"He approached me and I was paralyzed with fear as he grasped both sides of my face, giving it an underlying shake. As I stared into his eyes in that moment they gleamed dangerously and I wanted so bad to turn and run away. "Can we speak for a moment?"He asks smiling and although I knew it wasn't a question that required a response I nodded, my mouth open but lacking words. We went into my bedroom along with two of three men. I'm sure at this point in the story I should remind you reader, that my lack of hindsight has wound me up in very many avoidable confrontations.

"I understand.. you've been getting in business you shouldn't be . Well.. I came by to give you a 'tern 'dalking too."He said these words and within moments all you could see of me was a pair of terrified eyes wound up in cotton suits and musculature. I began to struggle to breathe, and my lungs started to sting with the need for oxygen within seconds and I realized it was the blow to the stomach that knocked what remaining air I had out of me. Wolfshiem approached me and I began to realize exactly why Gatsby never really wanted me alone with him. He was a dangerous man that could bring the US of A to its knees and he had me in the center of his very large hands, threatening to crush me at any moment.

"I don't want you... Snooping around in any of my business.. Hm? Because Gatsby's business.. Is my business. Understand?"He slapped my cheek twice with good measure and I was released from the hold of his two massive body guards."Now! Fix yourself up and let's go.. Your wife promised us a good home-made meal.."He says and smiles, resurrecting the Wolfshiem everyone else saw, unless of course you were Philidelphia or New York on the telephone. I coughed deep and with knives in my throat I plummeted to the ground in an loss of oxygen and dignity.

I looked up once more to meet the eyes of the one that had delivered the paralyzing blow. He scoffed and there was something in his eyes that told me that this was only the tip of what could be expected if I were to continue pursuing the only thing that could make my life whole again.

Over dinner I was racking my brain to think of why Wolfshiem had thought it necessary to come to my house. It also had me wondering what he thought I was trying to fix myself to get into. I wanted no part of his bootlegging facilities and I had been living an honest life up until recently. I knew that there was something not right going on and that either it was a figment of my imagination, or that Gatsby had survived and he was still lerking these streets waiting for his moment to try to claim back the life he was so rudely robbed of.

Wolfshiem left that night and I knew in the back of my mind there was one person I could call and confide in, the one person that wouldn't be susceptable to the claws of Meyer Wolfshiem and his crew..


	7. Update and a Favor!

Hey all! It's Dyanna here just giving you guys a small update/favor. I am an actress whom in my downtime loves to write fanfictions that, depending on my patience, may or may not be completely canon. So, that being said, I am being featured in a made for TV webcast on /ca. It would mean the world to me if I could branch out and allow the people who are fans of my acting to read my stories and fans of my stories to watch me act. Feel free to visit at approximately 2:30 PM on Sunday to WhereItsAtProductions. Simply click on webcasts and events and the show I will be featured in is titled Noble Hockey Legend. I'm sorry if some of you get mad by me trying to "Self Promote myself on a sight meant for the simple pleasures of reading" but like I mentioned and will repeat this all gets done through word of mouth. I will be updating another chapter of The Gatz soon and hope to have you all continue to support me so generously.

Cheers,

Dyanna


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